The Austin weekly statesman. (Austin, Tex.) 1883-1898, 1887-11-24
EMBARKING THE MAILS.
SCENES ON AN OCEAN STEAMER
AT QUEENSTOWN.

~@-'NS O"Ns
Peep at the Storage Passcngers-As
the Tender Draws Alongside-Fresh
Beauty of Irish Chndren-Counting the
Mail Bags--Outward Bound.
He must be n very uniInpressionable
person whose interest is not reused by the
scene on an American mail steamer on the
day after she leaves Liverpool, as she
steam along the Irish coast in the bright
sunlig.-C of breezy morning, The vary
ing forms and colors of headland and
shore would alone be worthy of notice;
but the curious mass of humanity gath
cred on the great ship is perhaps more in
teresting. And it must be admitted that
the saloon passengers, taken as a whole,
have to the observer less of interest and
character than the miscellaneous throng
who collect in the less favored quarters of
the ship. There is u monotonous appear
ance of comfort and prosperity about the
saloon paSsengers-each with his private
chair-which renders them little dull.
But every step among the steerage pas
sengers gives rise to guess or a reflec-
ton. Here is a sturdy fellow from a
Yorkshire iron works on his way to the
states to seek for employment. Close by
the saloon door is laborer from Willis
tall, raw boned with a couple of children
and weary wife. The whole family have
an air of dependency about them which
does not augur well for their future. A
couple of Italian masons are laughing and
joking with very light hearts indeed; and
so one by one, each differing from the
other-sad or glad, hopeful or Respondent,
full of confidence in the future or feeling
that across the ocean life cannot be harder
than at home-the miscellaneous throng
moves aboyt the ship.
MOVEMENT AND BUsTLE.
But the white buildings on Roche's
point cleaning in the sunlight tell that
the vessel is nearing Queenstown, and a
feeling of movement and hustle comes over
passengers and crew. There is talk of a
run ashore; there is an eagerness to see
the last British port, haste to post the
last letters to friends in England. The
ship slowly steams up the harbor, past the
heights of Carlisle fort, and on as if she
were bound straight to the white terraces
of Queenstown. Gradually she ceases to
make Roadway, and comes to standstlll
between the little village Of Whitegates
and the bleak sides Of Spike island. The
tender is approaching; but already boats
full of untidy girls, selling apples and with
baskets of bog oak ornaments and lace,
have surrounded the ship. AS the tender
draws alongside it is evident that the mails
have not arrived; there are only piles of
luggage and crowd of passengers. Some
are English or Americans who have
crossed through Ireland to shorten the
voyage by some sixteen hours, or to visit
Killarney; most are emigrants from Ire
land. Soon the throng of Irish pours over
the gangway-a widowed father carrying
his infant, followed 10y half dozen brown
eyed gentle looking children; a stalwart
youth with comely sister; a hard wien
faced old farmer in coat Of frieze down
to his heels, with his wife.
Nothing is more striking chan the fresh
beauty of the Irish children and the
withered hardness of the middle aged and
elderly men and women. Most of them
carry their worldly goods in bag or a
handkerchief. Their heaps of bedding,
with the tin utensils for the voyage fas-
tened to them, are pitched one after an
other on the deck while tho owners vainly
try to push past the line OF seamen to
secure their property. 1t would be a sad
sight, this hurrying of these people from
their homes, if one could forget the
squalid misery from which they are escap-
ing. But the tender has been emptied,
and is off again for the shore to meet the
mails. The train has just drawn up, and
soon files of porters, like a line of ants,
are putting the sacks on board, and the
tender is prepared to make her second
trip.
COUNTING THE MAILBAGs.
"nThis time she has scarcely any other
burden but the mails; and so, when she
comes alongside of the steamer, a dozen
of the crew are very soon at work piling
them on the deck of the ship An officer
counts the bags us they come on board
Zone, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,
nine, ten, tally" So they 60 over the
gangway by tens. They took up great
part Of the space on the tender and they
make a huge pile on the steamer; some
800 sacks Of letters and papers make it
possible to realize the vast correspondence
of the present day, But for some time
the great ship has been slowly moving
seward with the tug attached to her
amidships and the line Of seamen hurry
ing, each with his sack, across the gang
way. The long dark sides OF the mail
steamer and her lofty upper deck, quite
dwarf the tender; the captain looking
down from his bridge seems far aloft.
The ratings are lined with hundreds OF
faces-there are fully thousand passen-
gers on the ship-watching the mails
come on board. Every one except the
regular passengers between New York
and Liverpool, Of whom there are always
several on board, look a little anxious.
Most Of the poorer men and women are
sad.
1t is curious spectacle to stand on the
bridge Of the tender and look along the
sides of the ship at the great vessel and
the varying faces on her. But the last
bag is on board, the bell on the steamer is
sharply struck, and few friends of the
passengers, n newspaper boy, and some
other miscellaneous persons hurry on
board the tender to go ashore. The haw-
sers are cast off and the little tug steams
ahead of the big ship, rounds to for the
shore when she has got some lengths
ahead, and is soon, with the quick, rapid
strokes of her Wheels making for the
quay at Queenstown. The great steamer
steals away to the sea with n kind Of IRE
sistible and almost imperceptible motion.
The passengers forms soon become invisi-
BILE, and the big, black hull and high
masts gradually grow less distinct as "the
liner" passes away by the mouth OF the
harbor, heading for the west AS the ten
der touches the quay side the mail steamer
Ga ro11ndinO Tho head1aud nv fha con